Classy Captain - 1949 Pontiac Chieftain

New and improved for 1949 Pontiac's hot-selling Chieftain "Club Coupe"

Classy Captain - 1949 Pontiac Chieftain from Hemmings Classic Car

In all of our research for this issue about the origin of the club coupe (and more importantly, just what exactly a club coupe is), we didn't come across the term "sedan coupe" until, at the very last minute, we took a look at this 1949 Pontiac Chieftain Deluxe two-door. "By gum!" we said. "We'll be hornswoggled if that isn't a club coupe!" We placed it side by side with the two-door sedan in the lineup, and sure enough: It had a smaller greenhouse and weighed less. We decided the name must have been a holdover from the 1946-'48 fastback two-door Streamliners, which had at least as much interior volume as the four-door sedans, if not more. Feature car owner Dave Tighe agrees: "I would say it's a club coupe. They used that terminology for the two-door Chevrolet and Oldsmobile. The roofline on a two-door sedan was different, the rear quarter windows were larger than on this car."

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The 1949 Pontiacs wore an all-new design and, at the same time, shared a strong legacy with the models of 10 years before. Gone was the previous models' notion of large B-body and smaller A-bodied cars; all of the 1949 models were on a 120-inch wheelbase, a compromise between the 122 inches of the B-body, which held fastback Torpedo bodies, and the 119 inches of the A-body, used for notchback Chevrolets and small Oldsmobiles as well.
The new cars did keep two configurations for the new sheetmetal, with Chieftains sporting the traditional bodies, and the Streamliner series wearing fastbacks. Perhaps because of their junior Cadillac look, until this point the fastbacks had been selling as if they'd invented the car, and that was probably on Pontiac's mind for 1949, but it didn't turn out that way. A mere two-inch reduction in its wheelbase somehow transformed the Streamliner from a swan into a slightly less-attractive swan, and, while no ugly duckling, the Chieftains led by a length. They flew off the showroom floor, too, and helped launch Pontiac calendar year production over the 300,000 mark for the first time (although in the ultra-hot post-war market, that only meant holding onto their traditional fifth place), among which was the three millionth Pontiac, sometime in the spring.
GM's ubiquitous design director Harley Earl oversaw the transition to the new Fisher-built A-body platform, but Pontiac stylists Bob Lauer and Joe Schemansky worked at least mostly independently from Chevrolet. Longtime Pontiac and Fisher Body engineer Herman Kaiser oversaw the mating of the new designs to the platform. At 202.5 inches overall throughout the Pontiac lineup, the 1949 model was longer than the outgoing cars, and about two-and-a-half inches less tall. The outstanding new proportions also made it look wider, but while elbowroom was up inside, the 7/8-inch width was almost three inches narrower than before. The lower stance looks more dashing than the 1948 models, and the curved (a Pontiac first), two-piece windshield appears to be more steeply raked than before, although the angle is largely unchanged.
By 1949, Oldsmobile and Cadillac had the Hydra-Matic transmission widely available, but Pontiac general manager Harry J. Klinger and his chief engineer Benjamin H. Anibal, father of the Pontiac brand, by then both with the company for many years, had been resistant to the newfangled idea. They caved in for 1948, and 67 percent of the '49s went out the door with the coveted automatic.
The A-body has a cantilevered, cross-braced frame, with straight side rails. The new design extended the synchromesh transmission to the same length as the Hydra-Matic, to allow Pontiac to use the same length driveshaft for all engine and transmission combinations. This put the straight-six engine as much as four inches farther forward and, with the 248.9-cu.in. straight-eight, plenty of weight over the front wheels.
If the 1949 Pontiac's styling was sensational and distinctive, the rest of the car was a little more conservative, especially engineer Anibal's flathead eight, a 77hp, 223-cu.in. version of which was introduced in 1933 as Pontiac's sole engine in the immediate aftermath of the dissolution of the Oakland brand. By 1949, there were two slightly different versions available: a 104hp version with a 6.5:1 compression ratio intended for models with a synchromesh manual transmission, and a no-charge, optional "Denver Head" 106hp, 7.5:1-compression version. Dave Tighe, owner of our feature car, believes the 104hp straight-eight is in his automatic transmission-equipped feature car. The six-cylinder cars had a similar option as well.
Had the design of new cars not been a knockout, Pontiac would have been in big, big, trouble. It wasn't enough to have a new car for 1949--everybody who was anybody introduced a new car that year. Competition came from a host of reasonably priced eights, and even Chevrolet's own million-selling, value-priced six-cylinders. But the Chieftain was a knockout, and it beat the much more expensive, six-cylinder Dodge Coronet like a tin drum. Pontiac was also lucky that the new V-8 Mercurys looked more Lincoln than Ford, because while Pontiac outsold Mercury by about 50 percent, production was just about equal. The Fords were million-sellers, and even their top-of-the-line customs undercut the Pontiac price point. Oldsmobile had their powerful and affordable new Rocket V-8 powered Eighty-Eight and Seventy-Six sixes in new bodies; and Studebaker, coasting with a 1947 body style, had good-selling six-cylinder Champions.
Dave found his Chieftain Deluxe in 1999, when a friend spotted it at a local show. "I have always liked those 1949, 1950 to '52 Pontiacs and Chevys, and I've owned a lot of Pontiacs over the years." He told us he had a particular soft spot for this design, as he borrowed his cousin's 1950 Chieftain convertible to take to his junior dance. "So I always liked that car, the style of it." However, he credits his wife Judy with the success of this particular car. "The moment we pulled in the driveway to look at it, my wife said, 'We're going to buy this car.' I hadn't even got out of the car to look at it yet!"
It was complete, though rough, and needed a new interior and a whole lot of trim work--$5,500 in chroming, not counting the rear bumper, which the previous owner had rechromed. Unfortunately, someone then installed the bumper guards backwards, scratching the surface badly. Dave says he was able to bring back the paint with some dedicated rubbing, except for the wheel skirts, which he said, "Looked like someone walked on them."
"I didn't particularly like the color of it--my wife did," he said. "Women in particular seem to love the color of this car," a Wellington Green and Sage Green two-tone. He thinks he's the fourth owner of a car originally out of South Dakota, and that while the body once came off the frame for painting, the 89,000-mile engine and transmission have never been apart.
The drivetrain is certainly strong enough to handle the extensive driving Dave and Judy do every summer, including around 2,500 miles in 2006, with two shows every weekend, where, "It wins 80 percent of the time."
They make those long trips in comfort. The combination of cushy cloth seats and Pontiac's famous boulevard ride is dynamite at soaking up bumps, and the loping eight and four-speed Hydra-Matic make a super highway ride, too. Split folding front seats give access to a cozy back seat and, while by 21st century standards it's roomy, it isn't nearly as spacious as the sedans, and your fedora is going to ride on your lap.
The combination of 194-lbs.ft. of torque at 2,200 rpm, a 3.63 rear gear and automatic transmission provide reasonable acceleration in the relatively light coupe. At 3,285 pounds, it's the second-lightest eight in the 1949 Pontiac lineup, and even has an edge on most of the sixes. This is no small-block V-8, but it is worlds better than one of the big cars with a six-cylinder engine. "It runs great on flat land," said Dave. "But drive it into hilly areas, and you've got to plan ahead a lot." It was built for easy use and long life, and at that it succeeded, as demonstrated by the miles on Dave's car. Early Hydra-Matics have a noticeable surge when changing gears, but we like the firm shifts. Dave also points out that without a fluid coupling, more torque makes it to the ground, but you need to be at a complete stop to engage reverse.
Along with Delco shocks, the low curb weight helps to tame body motions that are the dark underbelly of the Chieftain's smooth straight-line travel. Tamed, maybe, but it is still not a pussycat. Sharp cornering makes the four-ply bias tires howl, and there's a sense that you could scrape the rear fender skirts on the tarmac if you pushed too hard. "It's a pretty spongy ride; when it says 45 mph around a curve, you don't want to take it at 46," said Dave. On leather or vinyl seats, you'd end up in your passenger's lap. It isn't really any worse than most contemporary cars, but there's a reason returning vets sought out European sports cars.
The short greenhouse and engineering accounting for the long transmission puts the weight balance farther forward than larger cars, where it makes itself felt in very heavy, slow steering, appropriate for the car's dynamics. Four-wheel hydraulic drum brakes are also very stiff, but have a reputation for good stopping. The publication Post-War Pontiac reports that it was easy to break the back end loose if stopping in a curve, and that locking them up sent the rear axle hopping. Again, not unique to the Pontiac, but it is another side effect of suspension damping biased towards comfortable ride quality. A surprising benefit of the change from 1948's pontoon fenders is improved visibility from the front; the thick C-pillars do create a sizable blind spot in back.
The Chieftain was the start of something big for Pontiac. Maybe they weren't revolutionary, and maybe they could have done better than holding onto fifth place in the market with 6.7 percent of sales. But it set the stage for blistering sales in 1950, and helped them weather the down years after that, until the 1955 models came along. It made Pontiac a player on the modern car scene, and was so sound and appealing a design that, with modifications, it lasted for years before those all-new models in 1955, and made the Chieftain name a leader in design for the first time.
Owner's View
Without my wife, it probably wouldn't have been possible, not only for the moral support, but just to get things done and stuff ordered for it and so forth. I remember one of the first things I ordered for it was new sill plates, and I called this guy in Pennsylvania. He said he had the dies for them but didn't actually have them made, and it would be $260-ish a pair. I knew right then and there I hadn't figured enough money to restore this car.
I started to hang up and she said, "Go ahead and order them." She's been real supportive, and she likes the car, maybe even better than I do. Every time someone comes up and even mentions about buying it, why, the first thing she hollers out is, "It's not for sale!"
We attend about two shows per weekend in the summer and have a great time meeting new friends, enjoying spending time with old friends and seeing all the beautiful cars at the shows. As you can guess, we especially like the original and restored to original cars.
-Dave Tighe
What to Pay
1949 PONTIAC CHIEFTAIN